Illume
by Ink Kissed
Summary: He, a professional chef, skin tainted with tattoos. She, a medical journalist, with a passion for photography. She takes the chance to launch his career but never anticipates being pulled into his dark world and coming undone. "It's all I ever wanted, to be the oxygen in the string of breaths that created who he was." AU. SasuSaku.
1. I

_**Illume:**_

 _I._

 _Sakura._

 _His fingertips and wrists were covered in burns. Ugly, rigid, pink scars. Yet his eyes were filled with such passion. Such delight. She felt her heart thrumming. He was captivating._

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Sakura shoved the last of her stuff into the trunk of her beat up dark blue SUV.

Boxes and boxes filled with packaged memories and discarded dreams.

The morning was bright.

Puffs of fluffy clouds. Searing white against the cerulean sky.

Scintillating pinpoints of sunlight peeping through the cracks in the tunnels of trees on each side of the sidewalk.

The street was currently deserted.

Sans a young woman in her early twenties, messy strands of bubblegum pink hair piled up high in a bun. Bangs swooshing carelessly towards the right side of her forehead.

Little baby hairs kissing the back of her neck.

Choppy layered strands tickling her cheeks.

Incandescent verdant eyes narrowing in concentration.

Bottom lip being sucked in and chewed on viciously as she tried to juggle stuffing another box into the already jammed up trunk.

A light breeze blew past, ruffling the bottom of her too over-sized cream sweater that swallowed up her hands.

Bringing along the scent of sunscreen, wildflowers and recent musk.

She exhaled a sharp sigh of discontent.

Opting out of shoving it into her trunk, she tossed the box into the backseat.

Pulling her keys out of her dark stonewashed jeans' pocket, she twirled them between her index finger and thumb absentmindedly.

It had only taken a few hours to move out.

And it would only take a few more hours to move to Konoha and start her new career.

She had lived in Suna for as long as she could remember.

Growing up in a small two story house with her parents.

That was before her mother passed away and her father became mentally unstable.

It had been four years since she had put her father into an assisted living facility.

Her aunt Tsunade had taken her in - and as she started to build up her career, she hadn't had the time to visit her father. Who cried every time he saw Sakura. For she reminded him too much of her mother.

She pushed aside her negative thoughts as she shoved her keys into the ignition.

The radio blared something indecipherable. Classical.

Cool air blasted her face.

A trinket depicting a silver bow and arrow charm and a silver locket of a key dangled noisily from her central rear view mirror.

Two hours to go.

She put the gear in reverse and pulled away from the only home she had ever known. Leaving behind distant memories and many shed tears and the hopes of her father ever letting her back in.

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Konoha was a quaint town on the border of the huge inner city.

It was surrounded by tall trees - many of them camphor.

Carrying the scent of recent rain, sandalwood and wood smoke.

Enclosed from behind by a large mountain.

Tall wooden borders that kept the villagers inside. Protected them from the harsh realities of city life.

It was beautiful.

With cobblestone streets.

Dust covering the grassier parts.

Sand coating in patches.

Her dark SUV drove down a particular bumpy path, trees creating pinpoints of flickering light across her windshield.

Of course her brother would pick the most annoying place to make her travel to.

It was secluded from the town. Located atop a rather hassling hill.

Brick and mellow green walled exterior.

Sliding shoji doors.

Covered in ivy.

Wicker railings.

Three step porch that led to the front door - decked with a slightly off hinged sign depicting 'Haruno Residence'.

Her brother Sasori had moved to Konoha after their mother's passing. He worked as a carpenter and crafted beautiful pieces of art out of wood.

She could see why he loved living here.

It was like living in a treehouse. Trees covered the perimeter of his land.

Shading the house.

It was like a hidden paradise.

Coy pond in the front yard once the trek to the top of the hill was accomplished.

She sighed as she effortlessly parked against the curb and unlatched her parking brake.

She sat in the comfort of the cushioned black seat for a few more minutes.

Inhaling slowly. Exhaling noisily.

Movement from the front bay window caught her attention.

His shaggy red hair covered head peeped from behind flowing white curtains - gray feathers stitched into the patterning.

His bright smile was all the invitation she needed to get out of her car.

 _'_

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 _'_

"How's dad?" Sasori's voice called out from the depths of his kitchen. All marble counters and island centered in the middle. Kitchen clutter everywhere. Dishes filling the sink. Fridge filled with leftover pizza boxes and Chinese takeout.

"Sick." Was her hesitant response.

Sasori knew that Sakura had put their father into a care facility four years ago.

But he didn't know that she rarely visited him.

And even though Sasori visited him as much as he possibly could - her father never told Sasori that she barely came.

She knew it hurt him to even have her name leave his lips.

"Thank you, captain obvious. I haven't had the time to visit him lately so I was wondering if he had caught up to me." Sasori and her father were always discussing sports. Playing fantasy football. Discussing the Leaf's - infamous sports team they both supported - latest news.

"Doubtful." Sakura leaned her chin into the palm of her hand. Elbow digging into the upholstery of the white sofa decked with gray and black throw pillows.

"You're so sour. When does your new job start?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Good. Get out of the house and go get laid or something."

"That isn't something a brother should be saying to his little sister."

"Well, you're too uptight. Just go explore. Konoha is filled with many beautiful things."

She finished the rest of the coffee in the depths of her teal mug.

"Fine. But I'll be back with proper groceries. You need to start eating better." She called loudly before gathering her keys on the hook by the front door.

Sasori's chuckled resonated from somewhere else in his too large house.

 _'_

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 _'_

Sakura was a medical journalist.

She had always had a passion for writing and medicine and science.

Decreed as a doctor, she had taken a long leave of absence from under the guidance of her aunt Tsunade (she was a world renowned doctor, whom she had apprenticed after) to move to Konoha.

She had found a job listing in a newspaper.

It was a requirement for a food photographer. To follow this famous chef of Konoha for a few months - cataloging recipes, taking tons and tons of pictures of his food until his grand opening night of his new restaurant. She would then be required to write a piece for the local Konoha Sun - large newspaper company that would launch his career even further.

She thought this would be a nice opportunity.

The chance to start anew.

Write something completely different from her line of expertise.

Plus she'd be able to photograph. That was a secret hobby of hers that she had acquired after her mother's passing.

Photography was her escape. A way to release stress.

And after burrowing herself in her career for the longest time - this was something that'd be able to get her mind off the stressful environment of the hospital she worked at for a little while.

Maybe even help her forget the troubles of her father until she figured out how to fix everything.

If that time ever came.

She had taken her brothers advice - sans getting laid - and explored the town.

It felt almost rustic.

Old but thriving with new life, new people, new buildings and things to try.

Her wandering had led her to streets filled with vendors.

After spending a good amount of time shopping there and collecting fresh food such as fruits and vegetables, chicken and other various foods her brothers refrigerator lacked - her footsteps halted in front of a building.

It was styled like a Tudor mansion - dark brown and cream paneling outside lined with stone and brick. Ivy creeped through the cracks in the stone and sidewalk. Twinkle white lights were strung from lamp post to lamp post and along the interior of the restaurant.

It vaguely reminded her of a garden.

Wicker furniture outside with soft velvety cushion. Iron tables with glass surfaces. Blue daises in vases - centerpieces of the table.

Windows encased the whole second story.

A large chalkboard out front depicted specials of the day.

The inside was completely different. Simply breathtaking. A large fountain in the middle that ran backwards with streams of clear, gray, and the unreal-est blue shades of water. Tables were iron clad with mahogany wooded chairs with sleek black cushioned in the middle of the restaurant around the fountain.

Booths surrounded the back corners, for more private dining.

It was clearly a restaurant.

Bustling people milling about. Large front counter where people could buy fresh baked pastries and fresh brewed beverages.

Black and white photos.

Bright vibrant flashes of pictures of food.

Large bushy potted plants poking from random corners.

It was like a fairy-tale coming alive.

A piano player for the weekends.

A front stage area for local bands to live cast their musical talents.

It was too huge.

There was even a bar on the second floor. And on the third it was marked private quarters.

It was like it's own huge apartment building.

Tucking strands of hair behind her ear she perched at a window table seat for two.

She stared down at the menu.

It was a hoshposh of variety. Serving everything from hand crafted pasta dishes and things she couldn't pronounce to a simple grilled cheese or cheeseburger and fries.

Her bright jade eyes flicker towards the front counter for an opening - all she really wanted to do was see if the job position was still open.

Standing, she left her tons of bags of groceries in the other seat and beneath the table, and made her way towards the back. Where the kitchen was located.

It indicated it was for employees only - but she didn't heed the warning as she pushed open the swinging door.

Complete chaos met her gaze.

People in chefs outfits and some in just simple tee shirts were bustling about, preparing dishes, sweat glistening off their skin.

A symphony of rigid dancing.

Steam whirling in the air with the scents of decadent food.

Her attention suddenly grabbed as her eyes rested on a man in the back corner.

Clearly the head chef. He had this huge corner that was almost like an office. Food cabinets surrounding him. Large counters and two ovens topped with pans and skillets sizzling and boiling.

She sucked in a huge breath as the man looked up and met her line of sight.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" His voice was all whispers of a faint Russian lilt, rugged and dark, a bit raspy perhaps from barking out orders. His mass of shoulder-length dark hair was shoved back with a dark bandanna. She could see markings of dark curls. However pieces stuck out at weird angles from the back when he turned his head to the side to grab another spice to dash into a pot of unknown creativity.

Dark circles lined the skin beneath his eyes.

A dark stubble lined chin.

White teeth showing from the now snarl curling his lip.

"Well. I came to apply for the food photographer position and service was not very efficient. You're the one who has to be answered to anyway, right? So I figured eh, why not."

His dark eyebrows rose in faint surprise, but he rolled his eyes.

"Are you any good at taking photographs?"

"Minor in photography."

"Hn. How educated are you?"

"Masters degree in science and medicine. Doctor. Medical journalist. I brought my resume with me and a portfolio of my artwork."

"Let me see it." He barked as he spat at a young man trying to ask what his sauce needed.

She stepped closer towards him until she could almost reach over the counter he was behind and poke his sweat drenched forehead.

The kitchen was smoldering.

His eyes were so dark and beautiful - deep pools of ink. Long eyelashes.

He took a moment to roll up his sleeves and she blinked.

Dark tattoos lined all over his wrists and up his arms. Slightly disturbed by all the scars and burns. She could see peeks of the black ink that tainted his skin sprouting from his chef jacket's collar along his neck.

His eyes glimpsed over a sketchbook filled with all the photographs she had done recently. She was an unusual photographer. She loved black and white. And the raw emotion of taking pictures of people in unexpected moments.

If he was impressed he didn't comment.

Instead he handed her back the sketchbook to take a glance over her resume.

He sighed.

"Come back after we close."

 _'_

'

'

Night had fallen.

All starlight and bright moon lighting the dark blue sky.

She sat quietly in a corner booth of the restaurant.

She had learned was named 'Solas' - apparently he was Irish as well. Light. Interesting name for such a dimply lit place to eat.

Fiddling with her fingers, chipping at the crimson nail polish on her fingernails, her eyes were drawn as a figure approached her.

There he was.

The angry chef.

He had changed into a simply form fitting black tee-shirt and dark jeans. She couldn't help but to stare. He was ruggedly handsome. All dark and chiseled with muscle that wasn't on the border of being too much.

She could see the tattoo's on his arms - dark lines with swirling waves of a dark blue almost black. Words in some foreign langue danced across openings in the lines of his skin. Looking closer at his neck she could see the making of little black birds soaring down the line of his neck - birds that formed into leaves of what was probably a tree blossoming on one of his pectorals.

"You seem a bit over qualified to be inquiring about this job."

"Photography is my hidden passion."

"What about food?"

"I can cook. Not professionally. A girl that loves to eat."

"I have to say - " He took a pause as he sidled into the seat across from her. Folded his hands in front of him on the table. Knuckles white as he clenched his fingers together. Thin white scars lined the planes of his fingers. Callouses, "Your artwork is something. I'll need you to fill out some paperwork. The next few months will be vigorous. I have a tight schedule. You'll need to be here early every morning while I prep. Then I'll go through my routine with you. Let you take a few trial pieces of my food. The goal is for you to acquire breathtaking pictures of my food. Then to write about it. Sort of like a food critic. Money will be given on a bi-weekly basis. Any questions?"

She had plenty.

Was he always so brash in his manner of speaking?

Why did he have to be so stunning?

What time was early?

Just how long was she supposed to live here and help him?

"I'll need you to stay for at least two months. I'm opening a new restaurant in a few months and this article about my food and I will be the launching pad. Mornings start at six. And I'll need you to stay till I leave some nights - but other then that if you feel you put in a good days work, you can leave as you please."

"Understandable. I accept."

"Aa." He slid over a stack of paperwork. "Just fill these out and I'll see you in the morning." He rose from the booth and made his way towards the kitchen.

"What is your name, anyway?" She called to his retreating back.

"Sasuke. Sasuke Uchiha. Let's hope this works out, Sakura Haruno."

She sighed, picking up a black pen on the surface of the table and started to complete the pile of paperwork.

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Her feet ached as she dragged the piles of groceries into her brothers house.

His snoring came from a few feet away.

Socked feet hanging over the ledge. Arm draped across his face. Asleep as the large television screen blared some statistics of the Leaf's.

Shoving the plethora of bags onto the counter, she quickly went upstairs to the bedroom she'd be staying in.

Mellow blue-gray walls. Brown hardwood flooring.

Queen sized bed covered with dark lilac sheets and gray comforter with faint purple lilacs. Fluffy gray and white pillows. Shimmering square throw pillows. Flowing iron ivy like holder that hung above her bed, sporting about six white candles.

A simple brown chipped dresser in the corner. Standing tall. A nightstand beside her bed with a black alarm clock.

A large window that connected from the ceiling to the floor depicted the view of a tunnel of trees that surrounded his backyard. Cobblestone walkway leading to an area she couldn't see.

Spanning in the distance was the large mountain.

Fireflies danced below.

Starlight and dust streamed through the screening of her lifted windows. Sticking to the flowing gray curtains.

An ottoman was attached to the foot of her bed.

A small door led to her own bathroom and walk in closet. Though the closet was tiny and had a little rack for shoes and an overhanging bar for hangers.

Her brother had unpacked all her boxes and suitcases from her trunk. He had even set up her computer desk in a corner by the window.

Taking a quick and sweltering shower, she changed into black sweatpants and a plain red long-sleeved shirt.

She tucked away all the groceries into the appropriate bins in the fridge (Sasuke had seen all her foods and scorned her for letting perishables lay under a table. He took the groceries she had gotten and traded her for freshers ones that wouldn't die from not being refridgerated for a long period of time).

Patting her brothers cheek, she turned off the television and made her way upstairs to succumb to sleep.

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* * *

 _Crappy beginning but I can see this turning into something so great._

 _Truly._

 _Sasuke as a chef. Already the ideas are flowing._

 _Decided to add another project while continuing with Ink and Pastels._

 _I hope you enjoyed(:_

 _This will get better, haha._

 _I don't own Naruto._


	2. II

_**Illume:**_

 _II._

 _Sasuke._

 _Rain trickled down from the skies. Stained gray. Mute blues. His breath was rapidly decelerating to short puffs. Clothes drenched. Fingers outstretched. "Sakura!" He shouted, agony filling his lungs._

'

'

'

Sasuke opened his eyes.

To a bare ceiling.

Black smudges in the corners - perhaps mold or leftover food residue.

Naruto tended to get a little crazy when it involved food.

Food. Cooking.

It was his passion.

He loved the feeling of completing a dish.

The satisfactory glean of knowing his food made people jovial.

He supposed he had gotten his love of cooking from his mother. She had loved to spend the hours of the day making something to feed her two sons.

Him. And his older brother, Itachi. A lawyer who was never home often – but when he was, his mother went gonzo making his favorite dishes.

However – that all changed when Itachi stopped coming home.

When his mother grew ill.

When his father became a workaholic.

He was left to take of his mother. She had been sick since he was eleven.

He had just turned twenty four. A culinary prodigal.

Doctors weren't sure what ailed her – perhaps cancer.

Or something else lingering in the depths of her body. But it was crippling.

She was forced to stay in bed.

So that meant that Sasuke had to cook meals.

Take care of his family.

For his father had given up all hope that she was going to be okay. Lived every day thinking it was her last – and just waiting for her to die.

Consumed by his work, demanding that Sasuke just leave his mother be.

He thought his brother was afraid, too.

Afraid that he would come back home and his mother would be dead.

So Itachi stayed away.

Wary.

Hesitant.

Too ignorant to swallow his pride and stay by his mother's side until the end.

He sighed.

He lifted a tattooed arm, clad in a dark gray tee shirt, to rub the back of his head. Tousled hair stuck up in all odd directions, curls hidden beneath the depth of his sightly wavy, but still short, black – with tints of dark blue in the light, strands.

His other hand scratched his side before moving to wipe sleep from the depths of his dark hues.

Alarm clock blared bright green lettering.

Two o'clock a.m.

Another sigh expelled from his lips.

Sleep was ever fleeting.

Work was the only constant thing in his life.

He was tired.

But he had to keep working.

Had to keep providing for his mother.

He spent a few more minutes in the comfort of his navy blue and black striped comforter. Dark blue sheets tangled in his long legs.

He stretched his arms outwards towards the ceiling – stretching his muscles, before sliding out of bed.

Bare feet pressing against cold, brown, hardwood flooring.

Bay window exposing the view of the city in the distance. All blaring lights and smog. Dust from the faint sunlight swirled in his line of vision.

His room was bare.

Bed. King sized.

Dresser. Black with many drawers.

Nightstand. Alarm clock and an empty mug of coffee on the surface. Little rings of water staining the lacquer.

Minimal decorations – a few paintings of famous dishes he had accomplished, attached with newspaper clippings.

Black and white photos of trees and lakes.

A picture of Naruto and a few of his other friends.

Naruto.

He had known Naruto since he was a kid.

They had been childhood neighbors.

Growing up together.

Playing as ninjas as the sun got swallowed by the approaching moon. Hues of orange and red and tricklings of pink staining the sky.

Ignoring authority figures in school.

Well mainly Naruto - whom enjoyed playing pranks to the point of embarrassment.

He, himself, was the more quiet student.

Cooking together.

And when they both graduated from college at Oto University, with culinary degrees, he with a minor in art – they opened up a restaurant together and it took off.

Of course success didn't come at first.

They had many failing business ideas.

Courtesy of Naruto.

But then they took the move to Konoha from Oto when his mother's condition worsened.

Sasuke lived in a two story studio apartment about an hour from the inner city of Konoha. Taking care of his ailing mother. Working day after day.

They unbarred Solas – a restaurant that would always be open. The light for the darkest of days. A place where one could rest their burdened shoulders and ease their worries for a few hours while eating something delicious and decadent.

Naruto lived on the third floor above the restaurant. It was his apartment, his living space - all three bedrooms and two bathrooms, kitchen, living room, office area, a study, and an extra room where Naruto gamed.

Sasuke occasionally occupied one of the rooms when his father came to visit. Or when he was too tired to take the drive back to his apartment or to drive the long hours back to Oto to check up on his father - albeit begrudgingly.

The second floor of the restaurant housed a bar area. Large television. Bar stools surrounding the counters. Soft, plush, couches. Huge mirror behind the bar to watch everything.

Then there were the other guys in the dysfunctional group he called his friends.

Kiba – an idiot mechanic with a love for dogs and his fiancé, Ino.

Suigetsu – another idiot who owned a bar and water company. He was dangerously chasing after a lawyer he had met in college named Karin. A spitfire to match his depredating cocky ego.

Shikamaru – a lazy cloud gazer who loved to draw. Paint. Lived with his girlfriend Temari.

Then there was Neji. A martial arts artist who enjoyed drinking tea and setting his sparring partners', Tenten's, nerves aflame. She owned a weapons store. And he knew that they both secretly liked one another but were too headstrong to admit it.

He didn't care.

He had no time for a commitment of any kind.

Naruto always joked it was because he was a prick and loved his career more than himself.

He sometimes agreed.

Rubbing the back of his neck – he stepped into his bathroom to shower.

Hot water streamed down his now bare skin.

Droplets trickling down his tattooed arms.

Intricately detailed black lines, waves of dark blue. Black. So much black. Phrases in Russian and Irish trailing throughout gaps in the lines. Words of encouragement. Words to fill him with hope. Memories.

One of his arms touched his neck – little black birds trailed down his neck where they formed into leaves. Leaves that detailed a tree over his right pectoral muscle. A tree that was dead. All black wire, sort of like strands of ivy, and surrounded by wispy smoke. Words along the trunk and forming the roots that meant something to him.

He had lost count of the amount of tattoos that coated his body.

There was a phrase on one of his sides in slanted cursive black lettering.

Dark, wilting, morbid flowers decorating some place on his back.

Tattoos were a luxury that he afforded himself when he got a particularly confident review.

Or heard promising news from his mother.

Neji always remarked that he was degrading his body with silly ink that would eventually fade when he grew older.

But his only retort was that tattoos were a work of art that he expressed through his skin.

His fingers curled into fists as he gripped a bar of soap.

The bar trying to escape, slipping slowly down the palm of his hand.

Hot water ran into his eyes as he tilted his head back and thought about the day prior.

He had been minding his own business - tending to his business - and this spitfire of a woman came barging into his kitchen.

All effulgent virescent eyes and _pink_ hair.

Hair that was toppled into a messy bun.

Cute strands sticking to her cheeks.

Makeup slightly smeared in the corners of her eyes.

Bold black marks.

Little beads of sweat collecting on her furrowed eyebrows.

Lips pulled into a curious, yet confident twist.

He had not been expecting the words that fluttered from her lips.

He figured she was just a disgruntled customer. Appearing there - to argue about getting a discount and complain about whatever she could complain about. The air conditioning being too high. The host or hostess giving her a dirty look for her appearance. Maybe that there was hair in her food.

He hadn't admitted it to her out loud though as he glanced through her portfolio of artwork and photographs, that he was absolutely stunned by the detail. Black and white was his favorite filter for photographs. She had a ton of those.

And the effort she must go into getting certain pictures.

The crinkling of someone's nose as the nostrils flattened when taking a whiff of a cup of strong coffee.

Fog swirling on the outskirts of a mountain - almost like hushed whispers of better days coming.

Trees inclining downwards, leaves of a plethora of colors fluttering to kiss the mud tainted ground.

Then as he told her to come back, and they sat in that booth he often inhabited when he needed a break, her eyes were holding nothing back. Bright like the morning sun on the peak of it's ascent.

The anticipating of getting this job.

Worry lining the plane of her forehead - perhaps over a personal matter.

The passion for photography.

Small fluttering of her eyelashes as her gaze raked down his body.

He was immune to the gazes of women - he didn't particularly care about the opinions of others, especially over zealous flirtatious women - but somehow the way her eyes ran over him gave him cease.

Blanked his thoughts for a few seconds.

He certainly wasn't sure how this was going to work out.

If she was even a creditable source.

But he was willing to find out.

 _'_

 _'_

 _'_

"I'm bored."

"Then why don't you actually get off your ass and go to work for once?"

"Because you get all prickly when I try to help and bite my head off. Stupid."

"You're stupid.

"Bite my ass."

"Hn."

Sasuke sighed as he leaned back from the black marble island counter.

Coffee cup nestled in-between his hands.

Naruto was sitting at his dining room table, head leaned dramatically back, groaning about how bored he was. He knew Sasuke left early every morning and didn't come back home sometimes until the wee hours of the next morning.

So it baffled him why Naruto insisted always coming over to _his_ apartment to eat breakfast.

He surmised Naruto was worried about his mother.

Naruto showed rare appearances to their restaurant though. Sasuke took care of the food, watching over the employees and organizing the checkbooks and finances. Naruto was more of a behind-the-scenes guy. Taking and receiving food deliveries. Restocking. Hiring new employees. Supervising only occasionally.

So that meant he stayed at home. Which was literally right above his place of work. Or at Sasuke's place - doting on his mother. Bored. Whining constantly and eating what had to be thousands of bowls of ramen noodles.

He was an excessive video gamer.

When he wasn't cooking as well, he was playing video games on their large flat screen television.

Although sometimes Naruto lacked common sense and was quick to make stupid comments - he was always there to listen and vent to. There to offer uplifting advice and a goofy grin.

Sometimes Sasuke would admit that Naruto was his best friend. But he preferred to not speak that out loud.

He was about to get up when Naruto spoke again.

Hands rising to plait behind the back of his head, crushing the spiky strands of sun-kissed blonde hair.

Bright blue eyes, clear as the ocean, grinning at him mischievously.

"I heard a girl came in yesterday and gave you hell."

"If you mean hell as in she gave no disregard for how busy we were and inquired about my job opening instead of waiting patiently like a normal human being, then yes."

"Is she pretty?"

"Probably pretty annoying."

"Ha. She's pretty. Maybe I will come into work today."

"I take it back. Stay home and get fat."

"I'll see you later, teme!"

Sasuke sighed.

What an idiot.

 _'_

 _'_

 _'_

"Sasu?" His mother's soft, small voice called from the other room.

Musing him from where he had his cheek nestled in the palm of one of his hands.

Stewing over the itinerary for his day.

He stood, leaving piles of papers decked with his slanted handwriting on the counter top, and made his way into the living room.

Mikoto Uchiha was curled up under a few blankets. Head positioned comfortably under fluffed pillows in the arm rest of the black leather couch.

Long, dark hair trailing limply down her shoulders.

Her dark eyes flickered occasionally to rest on the television screen where some ridiculous drama was unfolding that he noticed she loved to watch when she could. That tended to be at times like this - three in the morning, when she should be resting.

A small hacking cough escaped past her lungs and he kneeled down beside her. Concern rising up in his gaze. Eyebrows furrowed as he tried to see if anything was wrong.

"Silly boy, I'm fine. Just wanted to see when you were headed for work? You work too much, you know. Momma needs grandbabies someday. When will you be getting a girlfriend? Naruto mentioned there was a pretty headed rosette that came in the other day that caught your fancy."

" _Mother."_ He sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, Sasu, I'm just saying. You work yourself to the point of exhaustion. When was the last time you really enjoyed yourself?"

He didn't comment.

His mother frowned. Leaned forward to push his cheeks together. "I want you to live your life. Stop worrying over me."

He sighed once again and simply shook his head, 'I can't. You're my mother."

"Sasuke. You can't keep living your life burdened with taking care of me. I want you to go out and enjoy your life. Find happiness. Stop working yourself to death. I can take care of myself, too."

"Mother, not always. This isn't up for debate. I'm not giving up on you, too." Her eyes softened as she stared at her son. His shoulders slightly slumped. Exhaustion and stress lining the features of his young face.

"I didn't say you had to give up on me. Just that I don't want you spending the rest of your life always taking care of me instead of taking care of yourself."

"I'm not discussing this with you right now. I'm going to work. Get some rest. And call me if you need anything." He stood.

Tension lined the planes of his shoulders. He pressed a small kiss on her forehead and made his way into the kitchen to collect his things.

Anger rose in him.

His mother didn't understand.

He couldn't enjoy his life.

He didn't have time to go out and do things when he needed to rush home every night to make sure she was okay.

He couldn't take care of himself because he was busy taking care of her.

He couldn't enjoy his life, simply because he was afraid if he stopped always taking care of her that she'd be gone.

A life without his mother.

It wasn't something he wanted to imagine.

Nor was he going to let it happen anytime soon.

 _'_

 _'_

 _'_

It was a chilly morning.

Not many people were out.

Though that could be due to the fact that it was four in the morning.

He had left his house after making sure his mother had everything she needed within arms reach.

And after reassuring himself that she'd be fine until he got home.

He lifted a hand to messily rumple his mess of hair.

Exhaling deeply and unnecessarily loud in discontent.

His black shoes padded quietly along the slightly crumbled cemented crosswalk.

Shoving his hands into the depths of his black jacket's pockets, his head tilted backwards slightly to stare at the bleak, gray, sky.

He wondered how his life had gotten so chaotic.

Why his mother had grown so sick.

Why his father was such a prick.

When, and if, his brother would ever come back home.

Hanging off of one of his shoulders was a thick black backpack strap - connected to a black and dark blue backpack. He had to leave his house early that morning to avoid his mothers line of questioning.

That put a halt on some of his brainstorming ideas for new recipes.

He listened to the way the wind whistled through the trees.

The way the birds called out in loud cacophony.

He was getting tired.

Of fighting a battle he didn't think he was going to win.

His mother was slowly getting worse every day.

He just needed this opportunity to expand his business.

Perhaps then he could provide more for her.

Medicine was expensive.

And sure he was a successful guy and had some money - but it never seemed to be enough.

His foots took pause as he stood suddenly in front of their restaurant.

It was quiet.

And looked dark.

Empty.

Of course, it being so early in the morning meant that nobody was to show up to work just yet.

Not for another five hours.

He usually tended to get to work earlier than necessary most days anyway.

To prep for the day.

Make extra of everything.

Organize his employee's stations.

Checking the ingredients to make sure Naruto hadn't been an idiot and ordered things that weren't fresh - and to make sure what he did have was still fresh.

Then in his spare time, he'd stretch out in the booth seat and read a book for pleasure, or concoct more recipes.

He removed his hands from his pockets, to crack his knuckles, then shoved his hands into the depths of the pockets of his black slacks.

However it wasn't the way the restaurant was quiet that had grabbed his attention.

It was the figure perched on the ground, against the front door.

A vibrant flash of pink.

There she was.

Sakura.

Way too early.

Head falling as she was fighting off the urge to sleep. Her black sneaker clad feet outstretched before her on the sidewalk.

Shoe laces a vibrant light blue.

Her hair was down today - barely reaching her shoulders. Strands all curled at the ends. He swallowed as an image of him running his finger along one of the curls and twisting it between his index and thumb finger filtered through his brain.

Her teeth were sucking in her bottom lip.

Her jeans were tight. A dark blue, hugging her hips.

She wore a simple v-neck tee shirt, black tank-top poking from the line of her slightly visible cleavage.

The bag strap of the black messenger bag laying beside her and brown leather jacket partially inhibited that view.

His fingertips grasped the handle of the front door.

He mentally debated whether or not he should be rude enough to open the door and let her tumble towards the ground. After all - what the hell was she doing sleeping outside his restaurant on the ground at four in the damn morning?

He leaned down closer towards her. Crouching.

The scent of lazy wildflowers, approaching rain, and apple-blossoms attacked his senses.

Gods.

He couldn't deny she was an exquisitely weird perception of beautiful.

Delicate, arched pink eyebrows.

Little freckles along the bridge of her nose.

Solid black lines on her upper eyelids, accentuating her long, black, eyelashes.

He placed one hand on her left shoulder, the other lightly against her forehead to check to see if she had a fever or was really just this absurd to be sleeping out in the street.

"Hey. Wake up." He muttered darkly, shaking her.

Her eyes rapidly flickered open and she blinked.

Inhaled.

Blinked a few more times.

"Oh. I fell asleep."

Her _smile_.

All brilliantly, straight, white teeth that flashed in his direction as she suddenly stood before him there.

Almost awkwardly.

A camera strap hanging around her neck to expose a sleek, expensive looking camera. All blocky with a huge shutter.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came a bit earlier than planned. Must've fallen asleep waiting. Is that alright?" She seemed hesitant. Almost as if he were going to bite her head off for being outside his restaurant so early.

Idiot.

He took a few minutes more than necessary to stare at her, before responding.

"Aa. Sure." Her smile in response made his skin crawl.

"So, what do you need me to do first?"

He resisted the urge to tell her to just keep smiling, and flicked his hand in the direction of the window a few feet away, lazily. Nonchalantly.

"Move. So I can open the door." Her lips quirked, as though she found his response amusing but irritating all at once.

He smirked.

Once she moved a few paces away from the front door, he inserted his key to open the door into the empty and dark restaurant.

He flicked a switch off towards the far corner wall, flooding the place with dim lighting for the time being.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he watched her eyes dance across the room - taking every detail in when people weren't flooding every nook and cranny.

"Uhm," Her voice interrupted his staring and he quickly swerved his gaze towards his kitchen as she came to a halt by his side, twisting the strap of her camera in-between her fingertips. "Are you going to prep, and then go through your routine with me? Or would you be opposed to making us some breakfast? After all, if I'm supposed to be writing about your skills, I'd like to familiarize myself with your talent. Plus it's early."

His eyes widened just a little. His lips parting as he tried to formulate a response quickly.

Instead, he turned on the ball of one of his heels, leading her back into his kitchen. He heard her hurried footsteps falling in line after him.

Her soft inhaling of breaths as she took in the sights of the kitchen when it wasn't filled with people bustling about creating dishes.

Her fingertips, he could see from his peripheral vision, were trailing over the sleek counters as they pushed through the door and he led her to his corner of the kitchen.

She lightly touched kitchen equipment.

Gaze lingering on his back often, before resting on the rack of spices. Sheets of paper with his slanted handwriting were also sprawled all over his own counters. A knife rested against a cutting board towards the left, bowls waiting to be filled with fruits and seasonings.

As he moved to stand behind his private kitchen corner, she lifted herself up to sit on the counter he was now standing behind.

Feet dangling.

Hair running into her flashing eyes as she leaned forward slightly.

Palm pressing against one of the pieces of paper, staring at the words painted across the page.

"What are you thinking of making us?" He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried not to smile at her brashness. Never had he encountered a woman like her.

Demanding that he make her food.

When she could've just waited until the restaurant opened, really and asked for something then.

Or even to have came when he said.

But he let it slide.

"Pumpkin donuts with a sugar glaze and cinnamon flakes."

"But it's still summer."

"Not for long. And it's never too early for pumpkin."

She laughed and his mind tried to break down.

His fingertips tingled with a secret, annoyingly infuriating itch.

He ignored the feeling.

Opting to turn his head to stare down at the recipe he was thinking of making for breakfast. On second thought, donuts would take too long - especially since he made everything fresh.

He could make something with fruit. A nice fruit parfait.

But he wondered what she liked to eat.

What did she want?

Sakura had pulled the camera strap from her neck and fiddled with the thing while he was stewing in his thoughts.

He heard the click of the camera and lifted his gaze to her face.

She had the lens pointed in his direction, head tilted towards the side, eyes glinting wickedly, "Chef, deep in thought as he works in a futile manner to make a recipe to suit the brilliant and amazingly talented woman sitting before him. All the best for his customers."

He scoffed.

There was her smile again.

"What would you like to eat?" He asked as his fingers roamed over the many papers spread out before him. He ignored the click of her camera every so often. The way her body shifted in different directions to get better angled pictures of his kitchen. Of him.

"I like strawberries," Her voice pulled him from his thoughts as she suddenly changed direction. "Run through your routine with me." He noticed without comment that she had pulled out a small pad and a pen from the depths of her bag. Chewing on a bottom corner of her lip, her green gaze infiltrated his line of sight.

Tch.

"Well. I get up early every morning. Shower - " She rolled her eyes and motioned her hand in a circular manner - urging him to move forward with his brisk dialogue.

"You asked." He sighed, "I get up early and head down here. I check to see what wasn't done the night prior. Ingredients missing? Stations not cleaned? Food not restocked? I then start prep work. Making extras of a few things. I normally just complete my station - and Naruto's, the co-owner. I let the other staff do their own thing and make what they think they'll need. It good practice for efficiency. Then I take inventory, see if I need to make Naruto go shopping or order more things. I run over the statistics of the night prior, count the money, stuff such as that."

She chewed thoughtfully on the cap of her pen, "Sounds like rigorous work."

"Aa. Can be." He began to slide his arms into a black chef's jacket. Rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. Noticing the way her eyes dragged over his tattoos.

He pushed up the bedraggled mess of his hair with a navy blue bandanna. Tied a white apron around his waist and got to work washing his hands before he started to cut strawberries into a small bowl.

"When do you find the time to sleep?" His dark eyes crinkled in the corners with amusement at her question.

"Who needs sleep?" He noticed her gaze was blank, but her lips were in a sharp, and tight line when he looked to stare at her - before he then lowered his head and continued to work.

"Do you serve breakfast? What's the timing and duration of days open like?"

"We serve lunch on the weekends. Dinner every night. Breakfast on days I feel like it - I have Naruto create a huge sign saying we have breakfast specials on that day," He paused to rub his arm absentmindedly, "Right now we're open every day except for Sunday and Monday. Days off vary."

"So you only serve lunch on Saturday?"

"Aa. As of right now."

He watched with disinterest as her pen raced across the lined paper. Filling the pages with ink and his words.

"What's on our agenda today then, it being a Sunday?"

"Shit." He swore, eyes darting around to look for a calendar. There was one by the exit of the kitchen. He groaned, pausing in his attempts to make breakfast from them both.

How the hell hadn't he noticed it was Sunday?

He was an organized and attentive to detail man.

He sighed as he remembered his thoughts that morning drifting back so many times to Sakura and those coruscating, fiery, green eyes.

"Chef," Her voice was taunting and light. "Conveniently forgets that it is a Sunday, a day off in his restaurant, as he makes his slave for the next few months get up early to work."

He threw her a glare and his palms spread out on the counter. He sighed heavily, his head inclining downwards as he tried to get his mind together.

This woman had his future in her hands.

And here he was already fumbling.

It was Sunday.

How the hell had he not noticed that?

Her chiming laughter dragged his attention towards her. "Don't fret over it, Uchiha. Obviously you do need that sleep."

"I don't have time for sleeping."

"How come? Sleep is crucial." She pulled one of her legs underneath her from where she was still perched on one of the counters. Her head inclined towards the side once more, pen now poised behind one of her ears.

"That's a long story that has no relevance to what I asked you to do." He knew his tone had been rather harsh, as indicated by the way her mouth hung a tad agape. The way her eyes darkened in fury.

"Well. Excuse me for asking. I'll keep it strictly professional and ask things only relevant to the task you need me to do." He winced at the way her words were chilled.

This was exactly why he had no time, nor interest, in women.

He couldn't trust himself.

Or what came out of his mouth.

He'd rather not deal with any of it at all.

"Look," He waited until her gaze was matched with his. He gestured around his kitchen, his fingertips curling into the insides of his palms. "I have a lot going on in my life. Instead of talking about it and causing unnecessary pity, I immerse myself in my work. It keeps my mind off things. And I prefer to keep my life private. I meant no offense. I just have a hard time opening up. It's...nothing against you."

"I understand. I do the same thing." She muttered, removing the pen from her ear to flick the cap at him. A tiny smile appeared on her face and the guilt over his rejoinder snarled inside him.

"I...apologize." He mumbled almost incoherently but her laugh was acceptance enough to his apology.

"Well, anyway. What did you decide on making?"

She hopped off the counter to make her way to stand in front of him. He had cleaned off the strawberries, and whilst she had been asking questions had blended eggs, milk, water, melted butter, flour and salt. Then he had blended cream cheese, sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest and vanilla. Folding the whipped cream gently in once the mixture was smooth.

He planned on making strawberry crepes.

As she now stood there, he scooped the batter onto a nearby griddle. He tipped and rotated the pan to spread the batter as thinly as possible. Flipping over the batter when it was set - and waiting for the edges to brown.

"Strawberry crepes." Her eyes brightened considerably. As the one side of the crepe started to brown, he flipped it to cook the other side. "You said you understood my situation. What's...troubling you?"

She tsked. "So you can't share your issues, but you ask about mine? That doesn't really seem like you."

"I noticed you seemed to have a lot on your mind last night."

"Doesn't mean that you really care as to what's going on in my life."

"Aa. Nevermind."

"You sure are complex."

"Touché."

"But since you seem to have some inquiry into my own personal life - I do have a lot on my mind. And a lot going on in my life as well. My father has lost all care for me, he's sick and ever since my mother died, he can't stand to look at me. I'm waste in his eyes. My brother doesn't know, and I'm keeping it that way. I work too much, but it's so that my father can continue living in a facility." His eyes softened a little. Just barely.

He finished the crepes, stuffing them with the strawberries and cream cheese filling, then rolling them up and topping with whipped cream and some more sliced strawberries. "It's hard to see how your father could think of you as waste. And working too much isn't a bad thing. You do what you need to do to survive."

Sakura sighed and accepted the plate of crepes he handed her. He motioned for her to follow him towards a booth where they could eat and continue their conversation. He noticed that she waited to speak again until they were settled by one of the booths by a large window.

Her head hung forward a bit, silken pink bangs running into her eyes as a fork she had grabbed sliced against the golden skin of the crepe. "Yes. But, he does. All he can see is my mother, he doesn't see his daughter anymore. He's broken up over the death of my mother and I remind him too much of her. Every time I visit - he breaks down and sobs."

"Why haven't you talked to your brother about it?" He questioned, frowning over the fact that a father could go to that sort of length to hate his daughter. He could see being destroyed but to not want his daughter in his life? That was ludicrous.

Sakura smiled tiredly, "He wouldn't really understand. I'd rather not bother him with it either. He's finally got himself well grounded since our mother passed."

"Well...I appreciate you sharing this with me."

"You asked." He replied by stuffing a piece of crepe into his mouth. She laughed and again he found his heart softening.

Gods.

 _'_

 _'_

 _'_

"Thank you for making me breakfast. It's definitely something I'll write about. Is there any left? I completely forgot to take a picture."

"Aa. I believe there's one."

Sakura bolted back for her camera in the kitchen.

He chuckled to himself, making his way back towards the kitchen himself to clean up.

She was taking pictures of the crepes left on the counter, hair tucked behind her ears. One ankle crossed over the other. Body bent partially to one side.

He busied himself with soaking the dishes.

They had finished the rest of the meal with small conversation. Sometimes with elongated silences.

He didn't enjoy talking about himself.

So instead he asked her questions.

About her life.

Where she was staying.

How she liked living with her brother.

What she wanted to explore in Konoha.

She answered all his questions with equal amounts of happiness and sass. She was an interesting woman. She was quick to have a sharp repertoire but she was also quite cheerful.

It diverted him.

So he didn't know why he found it so hard to tell her about his mother.

Or anything about himself for that matter.

The words would be on his tongue and he'd bite them back or say something blunt and rash to hide his cowardice.

But she learned quickly.

And she adapted to not asking him anything that'd cause him to freeze up.

She was very astute. Smart. Simply brilliant.

He had definitely not gone wrong in allowing her this position.

 _'_

 _'_

 _'_

"I apologize again for my mistake. Didn't realize." Sakura was putting away her camera into her bag. She laughed for what had to of been the millionth time that day.

Was he really that charming? He didn't think so.

"No worries, Boss. Get some rest though, will you? I'll see you Tuesday, for sure, to begin."

He didn't think he could afford that time lost.

Or to go a day without seeing her smile again.

Especially now that he knew the pain that was on her shoulders.

"Hn. Well. How about I give you a tour of Konoha tomorrow? Show you where I get my ingredients, good places besides my own to eat. Stuff."

"I'd like that."

"See you here tomorrow at nine? Better not show up to see you sleeping outside my restaurant again. Maybe you should heed your own advice." She rolled her eyes, reaching a hand up to lightly pat his shoulder before she took off down the sidewalk.

Her car was parked a few paces way.

As she got inside her car, and sped off, he swore as a voice creeped up on him.

"I _so_ knew that she was pretty. Written all over your face!" Naruto's cackle made his blood boil.

"Oh, I get it. You show up to work when we aren't even open. Idiot."

"Shut up, you bastard! At least I don't have an employee come into work on a day off."

"Your fault for coming to my house so early and distracting me."

"Got a date tomorrow, huh? Can't wait to tell Mikoto her baby is growing up."

"Get away from me, dobe. I'm warning you. Leave my mother alone."

"She adores me, Sasu'."

Sasuke sighed, slinging his arm around his friends' shoulder and digging his fist into the mass of his blonde hair. Naruto groaned in distaste and struggled to get away from him.

All the while continuing to berate Sasuke with words that only made him want to hit him more.

His eyes kept wandering towards the direction Sakura's car had sped off into.

 _'_

 _'_

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* * *

 _Aha. Chapter two complete(:_

 _Naruto is so cute._

 _I don't own Naruto._

 _I hope you enjoyed!_


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